Misa's Note
by Playing-with-fire-again
Summary: "And, sudden as a heart attack, I noticed myself looking at her in a way that was less of an assessment. ... I found joy, and she was it."
1. Chapter 1

9/22/13

Patient Report: Amane, Misa

Outsider report: Manager says: doesn't eat anymore, doesn't sleep anymore, won't talk to fans anymore, as well as loss of all loved activities, recent death of a family member perhaps is the cause. Not much insight was given. "She will not talk to me"- stated several times. No further details were given by manager. Ran drug analysis at lab, results were diluted urine, no illegal drugs found in sample. Rest of info can be found on lab report.

Inside report: Patient spoke little, when asked about voices or other schizophrenia, responded with 'I only hear him.' When inquired further, she shook her head, seemed to be on the edge of tears, and showed signs of breakdown. This is noted. Bring up during next appointment.

Patient Diagnosis:

Patient is suffering from

Clinical depression,

Malnutrition (current weight at 100 and other vitals below normal),

Fatigue

Mild alcoholism. This is directly correlated with her depression. Low count of serotonin in neuro pathways, which can trigger her suicidal thoughts.

Forward message below Dr. Nate at hospital:

(Use of methamphetamines is not confirmed and not likely, no symptoms were spotted.)

Prescription:

Two tablets Zoloft in the morning and 5.5 mg of Ambien at night. Half a Seroquel to help with panic attacks and to help with sleep. She needs to be clean free of alcohol and drugs we have not given her, and food to help with the digestion of pill. Hemp oil to help with weight gain.

Dr. Recommended Treatment Plan:

Yoga is encouraged, we hold sessions in upstairs gym weekends from 12:00-1:00 and are taught by professionals who are there to help. AA meetings are also held in the vacant office next to the waiting room from 5:00-9:00. We have a rehabilitation center on the west building. These are optional currently, but recommended highly. Required in next 2-3 weeks only if not showing signs of improvement.

It was 9:30 when I left to get a drink. Or truthfully, leave my computer for as long as I could.

I was at the office until 11:00, but would probably stay the night as it was. It seemed I had sudden flash floods of work that would only continue to pile up until the legend of Kira the Savior would die down.

News was flying _nonstop_ about Kira's Death. His anti-supporters coming out of the woodwork, people killing themselves out of despair. Everywhere you went it was chaos. In the city, on the street, even in my damn office. Inside and out appointments I had, (growing more frequent with the end of Kira's reign), most of my clients were paranoid Kira supporters who claimed he wasn't really dead, it was all a media hoax and that the TV broadcasters who put up with it would get what was coming to them. I shouldn't say all my clients. Most _were_ devastated, but I saw a relieved bunch. I shuddered. I couldn't say I fell into the conspiracy theory crazed population. I was grateful he was gone, but I couldn't lie that a part of me felt safer when I knew someone was looking out for the _good_ guys. There'd been so much corruption with our political reps before the rise of Kira. He had knocked them down one by one, solving our economic crisis as well as fanning a general wave of relief and support to those who claimed they were honest, hardworking people.

I was meeting with Misa tomorrow to assess her behavior. She was staying in our ICU for an extended period after a suicide attempt. I hadn't heard much of her, but I knew she was a fairly popular model in Japan. I figured the stress had gotten to her. But maybe she was a Kira supporter as well.

At any rate, I felt my eyes close slowly. I rested my head on my desk and drifted off to sleep, with a nagging voice in my mind demanding I don't. But I was only a human. I mused to myself before heavy dreams if Kira had slept at all, or if he was truly a god among us.

Light Yagami, huh? Who would've thought? Just a kid. I remember first hearing about Kira and thinking it was just a joke. I've always been a realist, and I couldn't fathom someone killing others without being directly there in person- but there was a lot about this world that I didn't know. And I was only here to learn more, and hope my experiences could shape others' lives in a positive way- that's why I became a doctor in the first place.

But I digress.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't surprise me the next few days when I broke out in blistering headaches. I was stressed. I felt trapped in my work.

More than that, though… I was completely and utterly alone. I hid out whenever work spared me, and was completely unprofessional- taking small walks in the park, hitting up the occasional joint or two when I went home. I felt like my life had taken a downturn- almost as if it had no support now that Kira had died.

I had been surprised myself.

I had n _ever_ considered myself a Kira supporter. I'd always felt I needed to be impartial. But that's the only thing I could think to attribute it to. I had finally gained some hope in this god-awful world. I had started to believe things would change for the better. And now for the sad, disappointing downturn… the end of the climax. I had never believed in a god of any kind. But this man had turned it all around for me, and suddenly I had looked up to someone, something. An omniscient force in the presence of the common man. I finally felt like I could relate to my clientele.

Evil as though some may believe he was, crime rates dropped and hearts stopped fearing. More people began to love- for the right reasons? Perhaps not. But a fake, gentler reality was always better than human nature- so rough, so bitter. So understanding to the harshness of the world, and so empathetic to ignorance. I was caught in the pandemonium.

I was no longer on the bystander line, I was caught in the chaos. And it wasn't where I should be.

 _Kira,_ I thought. _Do you know what's going on in this world right now? The one you left so soon? Do you even realize what destruction you've caused? And at the same time, order?_

I felt myself tumble back into reality. I glanced at my watch- I had an 8:30 appointment with Misa. My first real interaction with her after she's been medicated. I wondered vaguely why we gave her a more thorough examination than we did with our other patients: because she was famous? Seems hardly moral.

I prepared my room for the meeting. When she came in, I welcomed her. She was highly sedated and I felt myself grow queasy. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. While she did seem ditzy, she had a certain face you couldn't stay mad at- you felt pity instead. And that was _not_ a proper response for a doctor to have to their patient.

I walked her to her seating chair and felt her frail arms almost crack under my light touch.

"Misa… are you okay? Do you feel like talking?" She cast me a forlorn glance, nodding slightly.

"All right, why don't you sit here?" I suggested.

She tilted her head up slightly in a nod. I wondered what kind of medication they dosed her up on. She seemed really out of it. We only used extreme measures in extreme cases, after all.

"Misa, tell me how you've been feeling." I sat down, feeling weak. I felt queasy looking at her. So _thin_. So weak.

"Well…" She seemed to take a while to speak. Her eyes fluttered across the room, and there was the same stab of pity in my heart. I knew from training you need to guide them when they're drugged to keep them stabilized and focused, so I redirected the conversation.

"Misa, have you been feeling better since you've seen us?" My pen danced across my paper, noting every movement of her eye, her fingers. It was all very important.

"There's this, and that… and he can't be gone, can he? If he is gone, why am I still here?" She slurred her words slightly, and every syllable seemed to require some amount of effort.

"Who is gone? Why do you feel like you need to be gone as well, Misa?" I made sure to state her name every so often so she knew who the questions were being addressed to. When patients go on stabilizing medication for the first time, it doesn't matter if no one else is in the room. They hardly notice anyway.

"Because I feel like…" She hesitated, and took a deep breath. Her eyes finally made contact with me. "Do you want to know?" She asked.

"Yes, I am here to help you, Misa. Can you tell me these things?" I hesitated as well, looking into her blank eyes very deeply. I felt sick. _How could I do this?_ _Why was this so hard for me? It had never been this hard for me._

"Ok," she shuddered, and leaned forward. "I'll tell you."

As she leaned forward, a piece of hair fell over her shoulders. I felt a desire to grab it and hold her close.

 _Again? What was wrong with me?_

A clear tearline touched her cheek, fell on her robe.

"Because I will go on unloved. And I don't want to feel like that. Please," she looked up at the ceiling. "Even if it is fake. I know it was fake, I know," her words cracked.

My pen scribbled furiously across the report. I felt weightless and very, very sick. _Keep it together_ , I reminded myself.

As swift as a flash flood, I felt a tiny scream, a scream you can tear in the back of your throat. I looked up, panicked. I ran over to her side and kneeled by her, holding her arm to calm her.

"Misa?! Misa?" I checked her pulse. Steady.

Her chest heaved and her head collapsed like a pillar into those infant hands. Her head moved, up and down.

"Misa…" I touched her cheek. "You're here, here with me. We are here to help. You will be okay. You are fine."

I made sure to talk steady and hide my own frustration. I was here to help the patients, not worry myself. I reminded her of the essentials: her name, where she was at, that she was okay, just fine. Basic protocol for tiny panic attacks like these.

I felt a tiny squeeze, so nimble and quick I almost missed it, pass over my fingers. Reassurance. Well. I was there. I squeezed them back and moved my chair closer to her.

As I got up, I felt her eyes follow me.


	3. Chapter 3

After the meeting, she was escorted out by the nurse and taken to get some breakfast. She paid close attention to me while I asked her questions, but as she walked away she didn't look back. I waited until she turned the hall to the cafeteria, and then I collapsed in my chair, burying my face in my hands.

My mind couldn't stop racing. I felt something during those moments with her that I'd never allowed myself to feel for a patient. I don't know what that feeling was, but it was.

Feeling defeated, I ate my take out at my desk, eyes flittering over notes, trying to keep awake. Three days and 12 hours of sleep.

I concluded that's all why I was feeling odd- but there she popped into my mind again. Like a bolt of lightning and just as vivid:

A full, radiant, beautiful and love-happy Misa.

A Misa whose light skin shined in the sun, whose hair glowed like it obviously once had, a Misa whose brown eyes glimmered.

A Misa I could see beside me in bed at night, having no need for medication constantly and supervising eyes patrolling her every move… No. This Misa. _This_ Misa… I found myself, with horror, _wanting._

I pondered how she could have had this effect on me, and was left with blank thoughts. I still felt the touch of her hand on mine, squeezing it hard. Almost as if she wished she could have done it harder, but she simply did not have the strength. I wanted to heal her; that was surely what it was.

Looking around, I found myself completely alone, and having no more work to do, decided to drift off into a nap, shutting my eyes to the radiation of my computer.

There was static grey in my ears and a black void in my head for a short while- and when I could no longer control my filters, I dreamed of small hands, dull blond hair, and grey-white skin.


End file.
